


Or Give Me Death

by MommaUrsa



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Permanent Injury, Physical Disability, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 01:52:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1492354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MommaUrsa/pseuds/MommaUrsa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the near complete loss of function to Bucky's left arm that caused him to be honorably discharged, readjusting to civilian life has been difficult. Luckily, he has Steve there, even if it means the tattoo artist has him addicted to ink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Or Give Me Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



                Bucky didn’t know what the hell he was going to do when he was honorably discharged, but knowing that Steve was there, just like he always was when Bucky visited between tours, had helped. Over the months of his recovery process, after almost losing his left arm, he had come to rely on his friend.

                It was funny how things changed since they were both boys growing up in Brooklyn. Steve was still a scrawny idiot, but he was less alone. He had built a network of friends that helped him when his courage got him into situations while Bucky was away. The guy had gone from some kid to a well-known tattoo artist working out of a rundown shop. People wanted him when they wanted something good.

                Bucky, on the other hand, was busted up after nearly being blown to pieces. He would be lucky if his arm would be fully functional again, but as it was, his motor skills were severely impaired. He could lift his arm, but flexing his fingers was a struggle. He couldn’t use the damn thing to lift a pencil if he wanted to, even months after all the physical therapy. Hell, even now, he had scrawny little Steve helping him haul their grocery bags into their apartment. Bucky was only able to lift the two, which left Steve to carry five other bags. The blonde didn’t complain as he dragged them up the stairs, even when his breath was labored, and Bucky felt like shit just hearing it.

                “How are you holdin’ on, Buck?” Steve looked back at the other as he sat the bags down beside the door. He moved out of Bucky’s way as the brunette stepped across the threshold and placed his bag down beside the others. He would take care of them later.

                “I’m fine,” Bucky replied quickly. He glanced around the apartment, nearly flinching when he heard Steve shut the door. He clenched his right fist, keeping his eyes locked onto the entryway into the living room. As if on cue, a small, German shepherd came barreling in before obediently coming to a stop and sitting in front of him. The dog tilted her head, tail wagging excitedly behind her.

                Bucky crouched down in front of the dog. He used his good hand to scratch behind her ear. “Hey, Cap.” Captain pawed at Bucky’s knee before setting her head down on it.

                “She thinks it’s time for a walk,” Steve chuckled. Before Bucky knew it, his friend was crouching beside him. The other guy ran his hand along Captain’s back before looking over at Bucky. “Unless you’ve already done that today?”

                Bucky shrugged as he stared down at the dog. He patted Captain’s head, and then rose to his feet. “I’ll walk her later.”

                “I can take him for you.” Bucky watched as Steve got up and walked over to the bags. He lifted one of the bags and started making trips, taking them into the kitchen.

                “I’ll do it later,” Bucky insisted. He walked over to the bags and lifted two of the bags. He followed Steve into the kitchen before setting them on the counter.

                They put the groceries away in silence. Steve side-stepped out of the way before Bucky could walk into him, and after a few minutes, they were left with nothing but a bag full of empty bags. Bucky left Steve to take care of the plastic. He shuffled across the carpet and found his way to the couch. He plopped down, legs spread, and stared at the blank television for a moment. He only looked down when he felt the weight of a head against his leg. Captain was wagging her tail, the dog’s big brown eyes focusing on Bucky. He snorted and used his good hand to gently scratch the top of the dog’s head.

                Captain’s belly was starting to look rounder since Bucky stopped being consistent with the walks. Steve had been good about taking care of the activity while he was gone, but the moment Bucky decided he needed the responsibility to be his, he had started slacking. The first week went fine. He was out, rain or shine, walking Captain without a leash. She was well trained and always walked beside him obediently. She stopped when he did, sat when she saw another dog approaching, and only interacted with other dogs if Bucky gave her approval. He felt bad, but some days, it was just hard going out there.

                It was unfair to the dog and he knew it. He had rescued her before he had joined the Army. She was scrawny then. Her ribs were visible, her fur was matted, and in some places she had been balding. She was in bad shape. She was afraid of just about everyone when he found her, but after a lot of love and patience, she had become one of the most loveable, well-trained dogs he had ever known.  He was lucky to have her, and even luckier that Steve had agreed to take care of her when he couldn’t.

                Bucky jumped when he felt Steve’s light weight join the couch beside him. His brows furrowed, and he leaned forward to focus his attention on the dog.

                “Buck…I don’t mind that you’re not doing it, but it’s not good for her to be cooped up in here all the time.”

                Bucky scoffed at the other’s soothing tone. He knew Steve was just trying to help, but it was pathetic that he was struggling to even walk the damn dog. “I’ll handle it.”

                Steve sighed beside him. “If you say so.”

                Bucky frowned at that. He glanced over at Steve before leaning back. He turned his head, staring at the other. He sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. He had to look away.

                He felt Steve pat his thigh. He looked over at the hand before hesitantly resting his left hand against it. He twitched his fingers, brushing the top of Steve’s with a jerky motion. The other turned his hand and laced their fingers together.

                “Yeah, Buck. I’ll walk with you.”

                Bucky nodded slowly. He let them sit in silence for a long moment before turning his head so he could look at the other. He clenched his jaw, and then decided to lean over. He put some of his weight on Steve’s shoulder, careful not to overwhelm the other man. “Thanks.”

                Steve reached over to touch Bucky’s right arm. He gently brushed his fingers against the Bucky’s forearm. “Whatever you need, pal.”

                Steve had an obsession with the tattoos he left on Bucky’s skin. Bucky had laughed when Steve told him that was what he wanted to do with his life. The guy was the typical all-American boy. He was blonde, blue eyes, but also scrawny and had _asthma_. He loved Steve, he really did, but the idea had been so ridiculous that he couldn’t help but laugh. Of course, it hurt the guy’s feeling, and he apologized after, which ended up leading to agreeing to be the guy Steve could practice on.

                Despite how ridiculous it had all been at the time, Bucky never regretted it. Especially not now, when he felt Steve’s fingers tracing along the dark font scrawled across the inside of his right forearm. They were the newest addition, matching the tattoo on the inside of Steve’s arm reading “Give me liberty” in an intricate font.

                ‘ _Or give me death_.’

                Since returning home, Bucky had let Steve continue to practice on him. He thought Steve becoming a tattoo artist was ridiculous, but was really ridiculous was that he had become addicted to ink. The only place that had been left untouched was his left arm, but only because he wasn’t ready for anything to mar the injured appendage.

                “It healed nicely.” Steve looked up at Bucky. He pressed his palm flat against the words as he held the other’s gaze.

                Bucky snorted. “Of course it did,” he replied, voice bordering a growl. “You make me take care of them.”

                Steve smiled at that. “If I didn’t, you sure as heck wouldn’t.”

                Bucky snorted softly, expression finally softening. He leaned forward, letting his forehead rest against Steve’s. “I sure wouldn’t,” he agreed.

                “We’ll take Cap out after dinner.”

                Bucky slowly closed his eyes. He relaxed against his partner, allowing Steve to shoulder a little more weight. “Sounds good.”


End file.
